s and glasses.

As they sate after their meal, Madame Bernstein was friendly enough. She
prescribed strong fortifying drinks for Maria, against the recurrence of
her fainting fits. The lady had such attacks not unfrequently. She urged
her to consult her London physician, and to send up an account of her
case by Harry. By Harry! asked the lady. Yes. Harry was going for two
days on an errand for his aunt to London. "I do not care to tell you, my
dear, that it is on business which will do him good. I wish Mr. Draper
to put him into my will, and as I am going travelling upon a round
of visits when you and I part, I think, for security, I shall ask Mr.
Warrington to take my trinket-box in his postchaise to London with him,
for there have been robberies of late, and I have no fancy for being
stopped by highwaymen."

Maria looked blank at the notion of the young gentleman's departure,
but hoped that she might have his escort back to Castlewood, whither her
elder brother had now returned. "Nay," says his aunt, "the lad hath been
tied to our apron-strings long enough. A day in London will do him no
harm. He can perform my errand for me and be back with you by Saturday."

"I would offer to accompany Mr. Warrington, but I preach on Friday
before her ladyship," says Mr. Sampson. He was anxious that my Lady
Yarmouth should judge of his powers as a preacher; and Madame Bernstein
had exerted her influence with the king's favourite to induce her to
hear the chaplain.

Harry relished the notion of a rattling journey to London, and a day or
two of sport there. He promised that his pistols were good, and that
he would hand the diamonds over in safety to the banker's strong-room.
Would he occupy his aunt's London house? No, that would be a dreary
lodging with only a housemaid and a groom in charge of it. He would go
to the Star and Garter in Pall Mall, or to an inn in Covent Garden.
"Ah! I have often talked over that journey," said Harry, his countenance
saddening.

"And with whom, sir?" asked Lady Maria.

"With one who promised to make it with me," said the young man,
thinking, as he always did, with an extreme tenderness of the lost
brother.

"He has more heart, my good Maria, than some of us!" says Harry's
aunt, witnessing his emotion. Uncontrollable gusts of grief would,
not unfrequently, still pass over our young man. The parting from his
brother; the scene and circumstances of George's fall last year; the
recollection of his